


andante, andante

by NalgeneWhore



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/F, Weddings, i love them. so much.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NalgeneWhore/pseuds/NalgeneWhore
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Manon Blackbeak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	andante, andante

Soft, teasing fingers drag up the line of her thigh, dancing across her hipbone. 

Manon mumbles something, her body twisted - chest pressed against the mattress beneath her, legs tangled with the woman pressed to her. Her head is cradled in the crook of a golden-skinned arm. 

Next, a pert nose nudges her moon-white hair to the side, exposing her shoulder. Sweet - intoxicatingly so - lips press against her pale skin. “Wake up.” 

“No.” 

A rough, rasping laugh fills her head, “Yes.” 

It isn’t her proudest moment, when she whines and shakes her head, “No.”

“Is this how every morning will go?” 

Manon blinks her cat-like eyes, finally turning to face Aelin, who lies bare under the sheet. Something in her electrically turquoise eyes has Manon softening, letting the ice melt for a moment. 

She stares at her fiancée, golden eyes tracing the way sunlight trickled through Aelin’s hair, the way it bounced off the curve of her shoulder. Slowly, Manon cups Aelin’s cheek and kisses her slowly, full lips moving together. 

Aelin gasps lightly, like she always does, when Manon’s tongue slides into her mouth, tasting her like she was a fine wine, like she was a fresh berry on a spring day. 

After a timeless second, Manon draws back, just enough that her lips still brush Aelin’s when she speak. “For the rest of our lives.” 

Asterin is, of course, grinning like a fiend at the alter. “Last chance, cousin.” 

Manon hisses something, batting away Asterin’s hand when she fusses over Manon’s collar. “Stop it.” The music changes, becoming the song Aelin plays most often, filling their home with sweet music. 

Unbidden tears spring in Manon’s eyes as she watches Aelin appear, her white skirts rustling around her. 

She walks alone and only had eyes for Manon. _You look beautiful_. 

Usually, Manon doesn’t care to be called such, but a tear slips down her cheek when Aelin says it. _As do you, my heart_. 

Aelin wears a gauzy, layered tulle dress, an impressive train trailing behind her on the carpet. The bodice ia fitted with a scooped neckline and strapless, delicately beaded flowers stiched along it. 

Her hair is styled in romantic waves that fall down her back, a few strands pulled back and pinned behind. 

Tears catch in her lashes, mirroring Manon’s. 

Manon wouldn’t be able to move - not if the Darkness commands it, themself. She wants to fall to her knees, to worship this deity caught in a human’s body. Somehow, she manags to keep upright ad walks down the steps to meet Aelin, holding out a hand. 

Aelin passes her bouquet off to Elide and places her palm in Manon’s, her other hand cupping Manon’s cheek and brushing her tears away, “Don’t cry, you know I cry when you cry.” 

Manon laughs tearfully and guides Aelin to the altar, gazing at her bride, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Later, when they finally get a moment to themselves, Manon takes Aelin’s hand to pull her outside to the garden. 

The moon shines down on them, making Aelin’s dress glow as she twirls, “Do you like my dress, wife?”

Manon smiles, sliding a hand around Aelin’s waist and lacing her other hand with Aelin’s, “I do.” Aelin grins, resting her free hand on Manon’s shoulder, drifting it to the nape of Manon’s neck. 

“Tell me how gorgeous I look,” Aelin says, her eyes alight with mischief. “Don’t be shy.” 

Laughing quietly, Manon guides them into a sweet waltz, no sense or pattern to her steps. “The moment I saw you, I wanted to drop to my knees and worship you.” 

Aelin’s eyes glow in satisfaction, “As you should.” 

Manon humms and spins Aelin her arm. Her wife’s pealing laugh echoes them, pure joy etched on her face. 

She looks ethereal as she drapes her arms around Manon’s neck, “Will you sing for me?” 

Manon doesn’t like to sing often, far too self-conscience of her voice. It’s always too deep, too raspy, not like the other girls. But Aelin has always adored it and so Manon nodds, “What would you like to hear?” 

Aelin ponders as they sway, their feet finding a path along the moss grass. With a sigh, she says, “You choose.” 

She rests her head on Manon’s shoulder, her nose grazing over Manon’s pulse. 

Manon hums something low and sweet. Aelin gasps happily, her arms tightening around Manon’s neck. She loves this song. 

_“Take it easy... with me, please,”_ sings Manon, just loud enough for Aelin to hear, “ _Touch me gently... like a summer evening breeze._

_“Take your time, make it slow... andante, andante_ ,” she dips Aelin, leaning down to kiss her gently, “ _just let the feeling grow...”_

For the rest of the night, they dance, sweet and slow, with only the moon as their witness. 


End file.
